


The Blue Door

by WhoInWhoville



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: AU, F/M, Fix It Fic, Hard to explain, Memory Loss, Pete's World, Romance, The Big Bang, The Pandorica Opens, big bang two, big bang two fix it, but ten is tenth duplicate, involved here, no angsty ten giving up rose for tentoo, so there aren't two tens, the crack in the wall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 22:06:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10397229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoInWhoville/pseuds/WhoInWhoville
Summary: What happened in Pete's World when Eleven rebooted his Universe? Rose forgot the Doctor. And what happened when Eleven touched the Hand in the Jar? A second chance for a fully Time Lord Tenth Doctor metacrisis.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Timelord1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timelord1/gifts), [thirty2flavors](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirty2flavors/gifts).



> It's complicated. Just go with the technobabble. It really isn't logical. LOL. But did The Big Bang make sense? Not really. 
> 
> I wrote this to purge the evil theory that was circulating at the time that Pete's World ceased to exist when Eleven rebooted the universe. 
> 
> Originally posted October 3, 2012.
> 
> I wrote this for the Bad Wolf Rising 2012 Halloween Ficathon based upon two prompt pictures that I will post on my tumblr. thirty2flavors posted the picture of an abandoned TARDIS.   timelord1 posted the "haunted house for sale" sign.

The first words out of his new, new, new, new, etc. lips are, "What's with the trousers? Are you expecting a flood?"

"You're standing naked in the TARDIS, and you're asking me about my trousers?"

"It's a fair question." Habitually, the newly-hatched Doctor attempts to stuff his hands into pockets of absent pinstripes. But remembering he's naked, he casually clasps them behind his back, instead.

"I need you to listen very closely, which I know is hard for you because would rather be the one talking. I should know, I used to be you. So… right now, you and I don't exist. Well we do, but we don't. Sort of. It's a long and very complicated story, but I don't have time to get into all of it right now, and I don't know how much of my memory you have processed yet, so I'll only tell you what you need to know right now at this very moment." The Eleventh Doctor takes a breath and then continues.

"In a different timeline, the Universe has ceased to exist. Sort of. Almost. It's complicated. I said that already, didn’t I? But it is very complicated. Anyway, I am about to fly the Pandorica into the TARDIS, which is going to initiate a massive explosion, possibly the biggest explosion ever. This will launch Big Bang Two, which will reboot the Universe. But here's the catch. We — you and I — are in said TARDIS which is about to go boom."

"What'reyagonna do that for? Did I go a little bit mad regenerating into you?"

"Might have. Would explain a lot of things about me. Back to our situation. You and I both know that we can't have your handy spare hand in the jar when the TARDIS explodes, now can we? Pronouns in this situation are very hard so I am going to go with you, being Ten and me, being Eleven, from here on out. Right? Okee dokee."

"No, it is not okee dokee, and never, ever say that again! What do you mean _when_ the TARDIS explodes?"

"Right. I don't think memories have quite settled into that big time lord brain of yours yet. May take a while. I'll catch you up. Remember when the Daleks came back? Again.” Eleven rolls his eyes. “And one of them shot you, but Jack was there and he shot the thing with his big ugly gun and then slung you over his back, carrying you back to the TARDIS? And you started to regenerate, but then, right at the very last moment, you saw Rose on the video screen and you promised her you were fine? So you siphoned off the regeneration energy into your handy spare hand that was lopped off during the sword fight with that ugly Sycorax fellow?"

"And people say I am the talkative one. Continue."

"And then remember how we found Davros and his band of misfit toys? How he sent Donna and the TARDIS into the engine of the Crucible? Well all of that zed neutrino energy stuff left over from that little adventure has been buzzing in your hand all this time-about oh, three hundred years, give or take. Add in all of that regeneration energy you siphoned off into it because you were afraid to give up that pretty tenth face of yours. Well I had to expel all of that energy somehow, and the best and really only way to do that was to bring you back, so I touched the jar, and bam! Here you are! A Fully Time Lord slash Time Lord Meta Crisis! You, sir, are unique, one of a kind. As if a Time Lord wasn't rare enough."

"Well done, you!" exclaims the Tenth Doctor. "I'm very impressed!"

"Come on then, get dressed, you're naked, and you're making me feel inadequate." The Eleventh face of the Doctor turns away as he points in the general direction of some clothing draped over a railing.

"A purple shirt with the blue suit? Come on! Where's my brown suit?" Ten frowns. "Wait! You ruined it! You ruined my beautiful brown pinstriped suit!" says the _Tenth Doctor Revisited_ as the memories of his regeneration come to the front of his newly-formed mind.

"It was, er, damaged when you regenerated into me."

"Damaged? Ha! Destroyed is more like it! That was my favorite suit!"

"Well if you hadn't have gone on the farewell tour before you regenerated, you wouldn't have destroyed the inside of our beautiful TARDIS, either!" Eleven lobs back.

"I needed to say goodbye, and you know it. Oh! But doesn't our old girl look rather spiffy. Very Spock with a little bit of steampunk! Back to my suit. Really, couldn't you have at least had it repaired?" asks Ten, not ready to let go of the subject.

"Would you stop whinging about the pinstripes! We don't have much time! We only have about four minutes before this reality is gone, kaput, finito. I suppose you'll be wanting the coat, too. It's over there on the coat tree, and here's your sonic. I made a new one. Lookeehere! Like the pinchers? And the lighty thing - it's green to match my eyes!"

"Nicely done," says Ten, not even looking at the sonic screwdriver being waved about by his next face. "What now?" He scowls as he puts on the blue and purple ensemble.

"When I ram the Pandorica into the TARDIS, for one infinitesimal moment, the timelines will be in flux, malleable, divisible. You will be at the controls of your old console which the TARDIS has brought back out of the archives, and I will be here at my console. And for that one eensie weensie moment, there will be two TARDISes occupying the same spot in time and space. You take control of one, and I'll take control of the other. Aim for-"

"I'll aim for the crack! Brilliant!" Ten grins manically at Eleven.

"Course I am! You won't be able to miss it. Sort of looks like a big scary smile. Don't be afraid to fly right into it."

"Why will there be two TARDISes?"

"I have no idea. But it is cool. Now, this is the problem, and it's a big one. When you find _Her_ , She won't remember you, because I didn't just disappear on this side of the Void, I disappeared everywhere. But, and it's a big but,” Eleven giggles and wiggles his rear end, “but if I'm right, and I usually am, that other universe should not have been destroyed by the re-boot, should it? And since She is stuck there, with no possible way of returning, especially back to someplace that no longer exists—“

"Odd logic, but I'll go with it. And I certainly hope you've worked through this because when I fly into that crack, I don't want to get stuck in the Void. So let's just hope that everyone over there is going along on their merry Zeppellin-filled way, just without any memory of me, well, you..."

"Us," adds Eleven.

"But hold on a titch. The only reason She is even stuck there is because of me. Everything about Her life will be in a shambles," Ten says, with a pained look on his face.

"Maybe, maybe not. But find her, no matter what. Tell her. Promise? Promise you'll tell her? Promise me that you'll finish the sentence?" Eleven begs.

"For us." Ten promises he will, with both of his hearts.

"Splendid. Quick now, trot off to your console room. It's next to the karaoke bar."

Ten shrugs on his long brown coat, and sloppily salutes Eleven.

"Geronimo!"

"Allons-y!"

oOo

Rose got out of her blue Prius and pushed her hands into the pockets of her favorite jacket. Form fitting. Blue leather. The real estate agent was already there, standing by the front door, a beautiful shade of weathered dark blue - almost the same shade as her jacket. Two rows of paned windows adorned the top of the door.

"Ms. Tyler, I'm Jake Palmer, we spoke on the phone."

Rose accepted the man's extended hand and shook it. "I like the for sale sign. Very funny, with Halloween coming up and all," Rose said with a laugh. "Not haunted!" She laughed again as she quoted the sign.

Jake Palmer laughed quietly and nodded. "Why don't we go around to the residence first, and then we'll come back here and take a look at the old farmhouse. I understand you are interested in remodeling it to match the style of barn remodel?"

"Yes. I'm thinking about opening a bed and breakfast."

The man led Rose on a flagstone path around the back of the farmhouse and into the remodeled barn.

"Come on in we'll have a look around. The prior owner was an architect. She designed both the structural remodel and did the interiors."

Rose looked around the main room. The photographs in the for sale magazine that Rose had picked up a week before had not done the house justice. She could see that at one time, it had indeed been a barn, but the transformation into _home_ was remarkable.

"It comes furnished. All furniture was either custom made or chosen specifically for the home."

Rose thought that the agent seemed nervous. She wondered if he sensed a sale and didn't want to lose it. The home had been on the market for five years, and not wanting to lose that particular negotiation advantage, Rose tamped down her excitement. The place was everything she wanted and needed: solitude, natural beauty, and most important, it was far enough from London so that she wasn't constantly confronted by her memories of her former secret life, first as a Preacher and then decorated Torchwood agent.

The interior was open and spacious with the original wooden beams and ceiling joists exposed. The master bedroom was located in what had been the hayloft. Above the bed, an enormous skylight brought the night sky inside. If the enormous soaking tub in the bathroom, the gourmet kitchen, whimsical reclaimed green wine bottle chandelier over the dining table or two story fireplace weren't enough to sell her on the home, the color of the wood used for the walls would have. It seemed alive, glowing from the inside. The warmth of the golden hued wood felt like home.

"So why is she selling? Why's it been in the market so long?" Rose asked, playing her trump card, as she slowly walked around the lounge, craning her neck to look up at the ceiling.

The man closed his eyes and drew in a breath. She had asked the dreaded question. "Ms. Blethyn says the house is cursed. She swears that she had lived here with her husband, and that one day, he just disappeared. But there is no record of her ever being married, and no one remembers her with a man."

"Disappeared? Care to elaborate?" Rose asked, undaunted, as she ran her hand over the brown granite countertop in the kitchen.

"Ms. Tyler, if you aren't interested, please, do me a favor and tell me now, because I really don't want to waste any more of my time showing you this place when there are other properties that would probably be better suited." He sighed as he closed his eyes, and wearily rubbed his temples with one hand.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, more than slightly irritated.

"The property is very expensive, for one thing."

"Look, I can afford this place, if that's what you're worried about." Rose had saved nearly every pound she had ever earned, choosing to pour herself into work ten years.

The man shook his head. "That's not what I was thinking, not really. I was thinking about how far off the beaten path it is. Wouldn't you be lonely out here? Most people aren't cut out for this type of solitude. Your nearest neighbor is almost ten kilometers away, and the village of Leadworth is fifteen."

"Why do I get the feeling you're trying to talk me out of it?" she frowned at him with a shake of her head.

"There are rumors that someone died here."

"Is that all? Let me tell you something, Mr. Palmer. I have seen more death and horror than you could possible imagine in your worst nightmares. The night of the Cyber Invasion? I was there, mate. I helped blow up the bloody London conversion factory!"

The middle-aged man looked at the petite, beautiful woman, studied her eyes, and saw a hardness there that he hadn't noticed before. He nodded, more than slightly intimidated.

Rose's eyes softened and she cleared her throat before drawing in a deep breath. "I was a Preacher, and then I joined Torchwood. Was a field agent for almost ten years."

The Preachers were well known to all, and feared by many. Yes, they had saved the world from Cybex Industries, but the cost had been high. Many innocents had died, as some within the ranks of the Preachers became ruthless killers, seeing Cybers where none existed. The Preachers were officially disbanded, and a new organization was formed out of the best of their ranks: Torchwood, named for the location of the final battle with the Cybers, where President Harriet Jones herself had been saved from conversion by none other than Rose Tyler, along with Mickey Smith and Jake Simmonds.

"I've decided to..." Rose closed her eyes and sighed. "I've decided to put that chapter of my life behind me, to use my sizable government pension for something pleasant and good and happy for a change and I'm just so sorry for being rude," Rose said with self-recrimination. "I'm interested in the house, I really am. Please. Go on."

"Well then you saved my brother that night, Ms. Tyler. He was in line to be converted, but still outside of the factory. Thank you. Your job was not easy, but it was necessary."

Rose nodded her appreciation.

Mr. Palmer continued. "There is more. Ms. Blethyn says — she says the house is haunted."

"Haunted? As in ghosts?' Rose asked, one eyebrow raised. "So the sign out front...?"

He nodded, a pained look on his face. "She made me tack that on. It's been a bit of a hard sell, to be honest. No one wants the property," he admitted with a sigh. "Her so-called husband talked to her and I've… I’ve heard him… or someone… too. I saw this crack in the wall. The most frightening thing I've ever seen in my entire life. It was up in the bedroom." He eyed the loft nervously. He had left Rose on her own to tour the home, afraid to leave the front door out of his sight.

Rose didn't know why the prospect of living in a so-called haunted house tipped the scale in favor of this property, but it did. It stirred a positive emotion in her that she hadn't felt in a long time. "I am prepared to make an offer Mr. Palmer." Rose smiled, and pulled her crocheted hat off of her head. Her long, blonde hair spilled over her shoulders.

oOo

The sale went through quickly as all parties were highly motivated, and within three weeks, Rose Tyler was no longer a Torchwood employee.

"Wonder when my stuff is gonna arrive," Rose said to Jake and Mickey as they stepped across the threshold of her new home on October 31st.

"You sure picked a helluva day to move Rose," Jake said sourly. "Halloween. We should be out pub crawling dressed as zombies.”

"You didn't have to come, you know. You're the one who offered," Rose said smartly, with an eye roll.

"And this weather! It's bollocks," added Jake sourly.

"As if I knew what the weather was going to be like when I scheduled it," she guffawed. "The weather never used to be this bad, and don't tell me I'm crazy, either. I'm tired of everyone telling me I'm mental."

"I didn't say anything Rose," Jake replied, hands up in a sign of surrender.

It was a common complaint of hers. She never remembered London having such horrid weather. Sure, it was bad, but never dangerously stormy twelve months out of the year. The appearance of the sun was so rare that some companies gave their employees the day off when sunshine was even predicted.

There were other things that bothered her, too. There was a particular food that she craved to distraction, and the closest approximation she had found were baked potato quarters. Rose took to preparing potatoes at home on her own. The cut the potatoes into thick wedges, fried them in grease in a heavy pan, and them doused them with far too much salt to be healthy, and malt vinegar. Mickey and Jake had admitted they were delicious, and told her she should enter the recipe into a cooking contest. She had even come up with a catchy name for the treat: chips.

Her natural hair color was light brown, like her unusual eyes. One day she showed up at work, blonde. Her mother, a hairdresser, had begrudgingly bleached it for her the night before. 

"Now every alien from here to Alpha Centauri is gonna pick you up on their radar, Rose, with that glowing hair,” Mickey had teased. "But ya look good, Babe, I'm not gonna lie."

Finally, there was the necklace she refused to take off. Why she wore a key on a chain around her neck was a mystery. It didn't open any known lock. She had a habit of trying every new lock that she came across, and it fit none.

"It's not my fault that the truck made a wrong turn and got stuck in a bog."

"You been exploring back in those woods yet?" asked Mickey, pointing his thumb out the window. "I bet there are Cybers still back there, lurkin' behind the trees," Mickey said, wiggling his fingers in her face.

"Not just Cybers, zombie Cybers!" Jake added with a 'whoooooo' sound.

"Shut up." Rose laughed halfheartedly, unimpressed at their attempts at Halloween spookiness.

Rose stood at the kitchen sink and crossed her arms as she looked out across the field towards the ancient woods just beyond the edge of her property. "You two are really gonna try and drive back to London in this storm? It's brutal out there."

"Have to. We're both on shift tomorrow. Sorry we can't stay and help with the unpacking," said Jake kindly. "You know, Rose, I'm really gonna miss you.”

"You're sure about this? Leaving Torchwood?" Mickey added.

"I have to Micks. I can't do it anymore." Rose continued to stare out the window, but then turned and looked at her two closest friends in this universe.

"How is this any better, Babes? All alone, away from your Mum and friends?" Mickey had tried for six months to talk her out of her plans to leave Torchwood, to no avail.

"I don't know. It just feels right. Well, for now, at least. I think I'm going to try my hand at writing."

"Writing? Writing what?" Mickey asked. "Self help books teaching blondes how to fight off giant zombie hedgehogs from the planet Fuzzball?”

“What’s with you and zombies tonight? But I don't know yet." She looked down at her fingernails. "Something though. I feel like there's a story in me that needs to be told, even if it's just for me. Whatever it is, it's tickling the back of my brain, impatient to get out."

"Whatever you say, blondie," Jake said, shaking his head. "You're always welcome back. All you have to do is ask. You know that, right?" offered Jake.

Rose nodded her head. Jake and Mickey approached her, and the friends melted into a three-way hug.

"Take care of yourself, Babes," said Mickey fondly. "I'm just a phone call away."

Her two best friends drove off, leaving Rose finally alone with her thoughts. Without the distraction of determining the legitimacy of possible extraterrestrial phenomenon, thwarting evil megalomaniacs, and fighting off her mother's attempts to marry her off to a nice, stable mechanic or butcher, Rose Tyler could think. The universe felt wrong to her and she had to know why.

oOo

Rose opened the Blue Door Bed and Breakfast, a place of respite and solitude situated near the edge of a rare conifer forest, miles from anywhere of note. Her hard work had paid off, and the result was an exquisite place of beauty and peace, a retreat for the world-weary.

Unfortunately, business was very slow, as rumors of the alleged haunting and ghosts persisted. She averaged one occupancy a week, and the business was barely in the black. She did not want to dip into her much diminished savings, and she really did not want to ask her mother for a loan, even if she had recently married some rich guy that looked just like her dead dad. Most of all, she didn’t want to close The Blue Door.

It turned out that the stories about strange occurrences at the home did have merit, though Rose doubted that the oddities were ghosts. She had seen enough during her time at Torchwood to know that _There is more in heaven and earth, Horatio_ , than can be dreamt of. Or something like that, though she had no idea who Horatio was.

Every night as she lay in bed, she was lulled to sleep by the quiet murmur of voices, and could see the faintest glimmer of light in the shape of a jagged smile. Sometimes she swore she could hear herself laughing with a man. Other nights, she heard an odd heaving sound and otherworldly singing.

But some nights, and these were the nights that were sleepless, she heard a voice calling her name. The sound of the man's whisper brought tears to her eyes as her heart broke for the loneliness she not only hear, but physically feel.

"Rose..."

oOo

Almost six years ago, he awoke in a cottage hospital with an enormous goose egg on his forehead, and no memory of how he had come to be in the anachronistic medical facility. He was told he had a serious heart murmur, but they didn't even have an X-ray machine to examine him, so they made him promise to have it checked out when he could. He never got around to it. He felt fine. _Molto bene'_ even.

Considering his wallet had been completely cleaned out except for a single piece of paper bearing the name James John McCrimmon, MD, PhD, and he wore no jewelry, the police officer told him it was most likely he had been robbed. His few possessions were returned to him in a brown paper sack: a blue pinstriped suit, a just-this-side-of-purple t-shirt, and worn out trainers. He'd smiled when he pulled out the fantastic, long, brown coat.

There was no record of a James John McCrimmon, MD, PhD in any database, and the police had searched them all. He was a complete mystery.

Having no one to call for help, let alone a place to stay, word travelled fast through the village, and the inhabitants took pity upon the stranger in their midst. They adopted him into their fold. Jamie was given a place to stay, clothing to wear, and a bicycle with which to get around town. He rather liked the blue suit, once it was paired with a proper shirt and tie, and the pockets were a marvel.

It became apparent quite quickly that he was a genius of the highest order, and was given a position at the small secondary school teaching science, math and music, positions which they had been desperate to fill for months.

Jamie was also outspoken and terribly rude, saying whatever came to mind. People tended to look past his rudeness though, blaming the head injury that he had sustained. His disarming smile and flirtatiousness got him out of most sticky spots in which he found his mouth had gotten him in.

Jamie had wanderlust, so when the school year was at an end, he said goodbye to his students and new friends, bought an old blue Land Rover that could be taken off the beaten path, and headed out on his own.

He had no idea what his life was about before The Wall, as he called it, but he had discovered a few things about himself. He loved the stars and could name every constellation visible through even the most powerful telescopes. Solving the most complex mathematical equations was like reading Dr. Seuss, and even more fun. And he had a sense for seeing things before they happened, but he kept that little tidbit to himself. Mainly, Jamie McCrimmon did not like being tied down, not one bit. Using only his genius and the mysterious wallet that seemed to show people what he needed them to see, he talked himself into a professorship at the University of Edinburgh. He had to make money somehow, and astrophysics was as good a way as any.

oOo

Gwenyth, the housekeeper slash assistant slash booking agent slash publicist, covered the receiver of the telephone with the palm of her hand. "Rose, There's a bloke on the phone who wants to let a room. Indefinitely. Something about stars and no light pollution or some other sciencey stuff. I can hardly hear him though, the connection's poor."

Rose turned and looked at her friend, curious. "Here. Gimme that phone."

Gwenyth handed the house phone to Rose who rolled her eyes at the probable nutter on the other end.

"Hello, this is Rose. What can I do for you?"

"Hello, my name is James McCrimmon, Dr. James McCrimmon, and I'm looking for a room to let," said the man cheerfully. "I'm a scientist, you see, well a professor on sabbatical from the University of Edinburgh doing research. I teach astrophysics, well, taught. I keep forgetting. I'm on sabbatical!" He barked a laugh. "And I know that it is a long shot given you own a bed and breakfast, not a boarding house or a block of flats, but I was wondering if you would be willing to make an exception for me? The location of your lovely, lovely bed and breakfast is very near the observatory where I'll be doing most of my work and all I really need is a quiet place to write and-"

"Could you slow down please, and speak up, this connection is rubbish." Rose laughed quietly at the way words tumbled from the man's mouth.

"So sorry, I'm on my mobile and driving and I know it's against the law to talk on a mobile without use of an earbud while driving, but I refuse to wear one of those bloody things. Doesn't anyone remember the Cybermen? How do people bring themselves to wear those things? I just don't understand. Are our memories so short? So what do you say? I'd be willing to pay two months in advance. I can email you my references. In fact, I'm doing that right... now..."

The computer pinged. An image of a man obviously taking a picture of himself with his phone while driving popped up on her screen.

"Oooh, he's a bit of pretty," whispered Gwenyth.

Rose scowled at her and put a finger to her own lips signaling for Gwenyth to hush.

Gwenyth made a kissing face at Rose.

"Shut up, Gwenyth!" Rose mouthed, as she hit her friend lightly on the arm.

"Um, I got your email Mr., er, Dr. McCrimmon. I'll give this number a call and get back to you, alright?"

"I'll be counting the seconds until you call back Ms. Tyler!" he said before he hung up.

"Gwenyth, how about I tell Rhys!"

"I'm just looking," she said defensively. "Wouldn't hurt for you to look, or _touch_ , once in a while," Gwenyth teased. "When was the last time you had a good, hard shag?”

"You are impossible! Why does everyone always try to set me up! Between you, the woman at the bakery and my mum, I'm ready to scream."

Gwenyth laughed and headed off to check on the laundry.

Rose looked back at the photo of the devastatingly handsome man. There was something familiar about him, but she couldn't place from where she recognized his face. She dialed the telephone number he provided.

"Physics Department," a woman answered.

"Yes, this is The Blue Door Bed & Breakfast outside of Leadworth. I'm wondering if you have Dr. James McCrimmon on staff as a professor?"

"Yes, we do have a Professor McCrimmon. Oh good, he has arrived safely then? But I bet he forgot his wallet again, didn't he? That man forgets that money is a necessity for day to day living. I can give you his credit card information if you need it."

"Absent minded professor, then?" Rose joked.

"Geniuses usually are."

"Thanks, I just needed verification. He's asked to stay here long term, but he hasn't arrived yet. He's only now just called to see if I had an availability."

"That man. Probably had his mind on that alternate universe theory of his again. Oh, how I'm going to miss him, though. Cheeky fellow. Always brings me flowers for no reason at all. Says he reminds me of his long-lost love's mother. He has a bit of memory deficit shall we say?"

"What do you mean?" Rose asked.

"You mean you don't remember the mysterious genius who walked into your very own village of Leadworth about five years ago?"

"I wasn't living here then."

"Well isn't this a funny coincidence!"

Rose Tyler did not believe in coincidences. A mysterious genius showing up in Leadworth should have been on the Torchwood radar, but Rose didn't remember anything about that at all. Why? How had that escaped their knowledge? And now he was coming back?

"Let me warn you. You can't get him to shut that gob of his, so unless you never want to get a word in, don't wind him up."

Rose laughed, thinking for a moment that this was a case of the pot calling the kettle black, given the way this woman went on.

"Thanks." Rose rang off. She did a cursory background check on the man's employment history. It was short. Just one position at the secondary school in Leadworth, and then straight to the University of Edinburgh. The combined information was enough for her, as her instincts were usually very good.

It was then that she noted his email address in the footer of his message. _lonelywanderer_. She felt tears begin to prick the corners of her eyes at the sight of it, for no known reason. She shook off the sad feeling and returned his call.

"Hello?"

"This is Rose Tyler from the Blue Door. Well, I checked on your reference, and everything seems to be in order. But you need to know, I only offer breakfast, and there are no cooking facilities in the rooms," Rose explained as the poor connection crackled and sporadically went silent.

"Did you say there are cooking facilities in the rooms? That's brilliant!"

"No. I said there are _no_ cooking—“ The line broke again, and she rolled her eyes.

" _Molto bene'_!" The man exclaimed happily, still was not hearing her correctly. The poor cellular connection could not obscure the excitement of the man's voice.

Rose thought silently for a moment before she as answered. She had to cook for herself anyway. What was one more person? She never went out, and it would be a nice change of pace to have someone intelligent to talk to at night. She closed her eyes and gave herself one last chance to swallow her words. "When do you need the room?"

"Tonight...ssible...arrive...five?"

The line went dead before Rose could answer him.

"Guess what Gwenyth? I am officially now running a boarding house."

Rose was rather feeling somewhat cheered at the prospect of having a long term guest, now that she thought about it. The steady income stream was a definite plus. She had become a rather good cook in the past nine months, and given the poor weather, she didn't want the man to have to go back out to town for supper in the stronger than usual storm that was predicted for this evening. Nothing would be open probably anyway. The town buttoned itself up rather early, and given the storm, the few restaurants and the only pub had probably already closed.

She decided that straightaway she would clear up Dr. McCrimmon's misconception that he had a cooker in his room. She would offer him a meal plan at dinner tonight. She was tired of eating alone every night. Gwenyth had a family of her own with whom she spent her evenings.

The refrigerator was fully stocked as Rose had marketed that morning. She pulled out what she needed to make a simple, hearty supper of beef and barley soup, and glanced at the fresh baguette from the bakery in the village. Gwenyth had headed home for the day, after freshening the largest room for their new guest.

Five o'clock came and went, as did six, and then seven. At half eight, Rose gave in and ate alone. She laid a fire in the grate of the big stone fireplace and cuddled up under a heavy wool afghan with her laptop. Around half nine, as predicted, the storm surged. Gale force winds off of the Atlantic kicked up and the inevitable light-flickering began.

At eight forty-five, the electricity finally gave in to the storm. Rose grabbed her rain slicker and stepped into her tall, dark green wellies to turn on the propane generator. She went through the complicated start-up procedure, and it failed. She repeated the steps, and again, it refused to turn over. The wind blew her hood off of her head, and the rain pelted her face, soaking her hair. Water ran down her neck, flooding her clothing.

Rose swore as she fought the generator, kicking the machine angrily. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a pair of dim headlamps growing brighter the closer they came.

"Now he chooses to show up,.” she muttered.

A large vehicle, an older model of the type that Torchwood relied upon in the field, stopped. A man hauled himself out, and pulled two rucksacks out of the back seat. Rose gave up, and ran around to the main entrance.

"Are you Dr. McCrimmon?" she yelled above the wind, hugging her hood over her head.

"Yes," he answered loudly above the of rain and wind, as he followed her through the open front door of her inn.

Rose closed the door behind her, sealing them from the storm. She shrugged off her dripping coat and hanged it on the peg in the hallway. "Sorry, power just went out, and I can't get the generator going. I was working on it when you pulled up. Did you get lost or something?"

"I'm so sorry, my mobile battery died up the road a ways and then the road was washed out. I couldn't ring you. The authorities sent me on a long detour up and around the mountain. It really isn't a mountain, more of a bump, but they call it a mountain, and I had to come up from the south. That storm is really something fantastic!"

"Well, I'm Rose Tyler. I'm the owner. Welcome to The Blue Door, Dr. McCrimmon. Sorry about the power outage. I can't even see your face," she laughed nervously. "Why don't you hang up your coat there on the peg and I'll get you a towel so you can dry off. Then I'll bring you supper. I hope you like soup and bread. I can warm it on the cooker. Glad this place is piped for gas," Rose called over her shoulder as she headed to the linen cupboard for the promised towel.

"Sounds brilliant," he said, bouncing on his toes as he peeled off his long coat and placed it on the peg.

"As soon as I sort your supper, I'll go back out and try to get the generator working. It's being stubborn."

"I'm very good with mechanicals, perhaps I could take a look at it for you?" he asked.

"No, that's alright. I can do it. Why don't you go and warm up by the fire, and I'll bring your supper in on a tray. There isn't much light in the kitchen and it's awfully cold in here."

"I don't think it's cold, but a fire is always nice," said Jamie, following her into the kitchen. "Oh, this is lovely! New remodel, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I had a bit of a career change, bought this old place about a year ago and remodeled it from roof to root cellar. It was a wreck of an old farmhouse when I bought it. I live in the remodeled barn out back." Rose ladled soup into a saucepan and lit the gas hob with a long, wooden, match.

How did he know the room was lovely, let alone remodeled? How could he see? The kitchen was nearly dark, and the only way she could function in the dark was due to being familiar with the room. Maybe he had read about the remodel. She shook off the odd feeling.

"So what did you do before?" he asked.

"I worked for..." Rose paused. Telling people about her involvement Torchwood was always tricky. Many had a deep-seated distrust for the organization. "I was a Torchwood field agent for ten years."

"Rose Tyler, Defender of the Earth!"

Rose dropped the soup ladle. It clanged as the metal hit the tile floor.

"What'd you say?"

"I'm sorry, did I say something wrong?" he asked sheepishly. "Isn't that Torchwood's motto? 'Defenders of the Earth'?"

"Yes. You're right. Sorry. I'm a bit skittish with the storm and all. Would you like some tea?" she asked, voice shaking slightly.

"Tea would be brilliant."

After dinner, Rose found the emergency torches, and provided one to her guest. She instructed him to follow her up the stairs to his room.

"Breakfast is normally served beginning around seven, but with this storm, who knows if either of us will get any sleep tonight what with the howling and all. I may just end up out here reading by the fire. I'm a bit of an early riser anyway, so I doubt you'll be up before me. Normally I stay in my house around back, but tonight I'm going to bunk down in one of the other guest rooms. Just knock on door number one if you need anything. Goodnight Dr. McCrimmon."

"Please. Call me Jamie. And Ms. Tyler, do me a favor? Don't go out and work on that generator on my account. I'm fine. Really."

"Alright, Jamie. You don't have to ask me twice," she replied, somewhat relieved. "The power will probably be back on by morning anyway. They're quite good about getting it sorted quickly. Happens so often, they have enough practice. Good night then." She began to walk down the hall and then stopped. "Call me Rose."

She smiled at him through the dark, and his heart skipped four beats.

oOo

Rose had never slept in one of the guest rooms before. She didn't expect to see the crack in the wall or hear her name called. It was one of _those_ nights. A night filled with tears and longing.

"Rose... Rose..."

She heard the electric furnace kick on, and knew that the electricity had been restored. The clock on the bedside table started to flash 12:00. It was still dark, but Rose guessed it was around five fifteen. The wind had subsided, but rain was still falling.

Exhausted, she dragged herself back to her own home, showered and cleaned up, and returned to the inn at six. Gwenyth called to see if she was needed at work, as their home had sustained some minor damage, and she wanted to be home to help her husband Rhys clean up the mess.

"I can handle things here, Gwenyth," Rose said as she looked out the window at the scattered tree limbs and debris, evidence of the storm.

It was 6:30 when her guest made his way downstairs.

"You're up early," said Rose to the cheerful man as he sauntered into the kitchen.

"Good morning, I see the power is back up and running, or did you go out and work on that generator in the storm?"

"It came on around five I think. I'll take a look at the blasted thing after breakie. Another storm is expected tonight, and I don't want to get stuck without power two nights in a row. Since you're the only guest, why don't you tell me what you want for breakfast? I have eggs, I could make pancakes or waffles. There are sausages, and I have oats for-"

"Ooo, pancakes! Do you have any bananas?"

"Might have," she said. "I have a fire going in the lounge. Would you like some coffee or tea while I'm preparing breakfast?"

"Tea, please. May I stay here with you? Unless you’d rather…”

"No! Of course, make yourself comfortable wherever." Rose smiled at him. It was the first time she had a chance to take a good look at the man. He was tall, extremely slender - some would say skinny - and had a fine-featured face. His brown hair stuck out in a million directions endearingly, and Rose had the urge to ruffle it. She wasn't sure if she was more attracted to his eyes or his mouth, as both were outstanding. All in all, he was much more handsome in person.

He spoke, breaking her examination of his face. "You know, I don't remember so many storms in England when I was a kid. Seems like the weather has gone all wonky."

"You know, I think so too! People say I'm full of it, but I remember actually seeing the sun!"

"I used to have freckles!" Jamie added with a laugh, leaning on the counter. "No one seems to agree with me either. Everyone says it's always been like this. Shall we start a club? We could call ourselves The Order of Those Who Remember the Sun. But I think we'd be the only members. You interested in astronomy?"

"Yeah. I am, actually. I wanted to get my A Levels and continue on, but then the Cybers happened." Her voice trailed off.

"Really," he said, rather surprised.

"Why you so surprised? Is it because I'm blonde?" she said with a teasing grin.

"Absolutely not! It's because you're operating a B&B in the middle of nowhere, not working in academia somewhere. Shocking shortage of astronomers out there, especially good looking ones," he said with an eyebrow waggle. 

"Really? And you know this from your own personal research, or was there an official study commissioned?" She grinned again, this time, her tongue peeked out from between her teeth.

"Definitely personal research,” he said, leaning on the counter so that they were nearly nose to nose.

"Rather hard to be an astronomer when the telescopes can't see the stars for the storm clouds. The moment the clouds clear, I plan on speeding up to the telescope. Anyway, perhaps you'd like to come up to the observatory with me sometime? I could show you stars you have never seen before."

"That's some pickup line you've got there." Rose pushed herself off of the counter and turned away, blushing like a sixteen year old. She hadn't flirted in years, and hadn't been involved with anyone romantically since her relationship with Mickey Smith dissolved itself and eventually evolved into strong friendship. That had been at least ten years. Or more. It was all a bit fuzzy. "Most men want to show me their car or their flat. Not an observatory."

"I'm not most men,” he said, voice low and rumbling.

"I'll bet you aren't," she said breathily. “I, um, need to take a look at the generator." Rose fled the kitchen, leaving a smiling Jamie McCrimmon follow her retreat with shining, dark brown eyes.

oOo

_"Doctor! Help me!"_

Jamie's eyes flew open. "Rose!"

Rose wasn't in the room, not that he hadn't imagined that she was there on several recent occasions. What was in the room, though, was a glowing crack in the wall.

At first, he approached it slowly and carefully, as any good scientist should. "I'm not a good scientist," he said to himself, out loud. He pushed his hand inside and screamed at the searing heat burning his flesh. His hand latched onto something hard. He grabbed, and pulled it out.

Not only was his hand unburnt, but he was holding a piece of wood. It was painted blue.

"Well this is interesting," he said, to himself.

oOo

It had been the worst night yet since she moved to Leadworth. The crack in her wall was larger and brighter than ever before, and the whispering of her name had become so fervent, the apparent need and longing so deep, that she had run out of tears to cry.

"Rose..." whispered the voice.

"What do you need? Tell me, please, how can I help you?" she shouted at the wall.

"You need to remember. Remember me. _Please_ ,” the man begged. 

The crack sealed itself, and disappeared into the darkness.

Rose fell back onto her pillows. "I feel like I'm going mad. Now the voice sounds like Jamie’s.”

oOo

Rose and Jamie shared their morning meal in awkward silence. Usually they found something to talk about within moments of greeting each other in the morning, but today was different. There was an uncomfortable heaviness in the air between them. Unspoken words, pensive looks, a need for something more pervaded.

Jamie broke the silence first. "Are you alright, Rose?"

"Um, to be honest, no. I'm exhausted. I haven't been sleeping well."

"Maybe fresh air would help. Care to join me for a walk in the woods?"

"Sure," she replied quietly. "I think I'd like that."

Two hours later, they were now hand-in-hand, deep in the forest filled with tall non-native Douglas Fir trees, imported fifty years before from Region V of the North American Union of States, part of a re-forestation effort by a young Queen Elizabeth II, decades before.

"I was thinking," he said a bit shyly, "maybe you'd like to not have to cook dinner some night. Maybe I could, I don't know, take you out to dinner."

"Are you asking me on a date Dr. McCrimmon?" Rose asked flirtatiously.

He tugged his ear with his free hand. "I think I am."

"I'd really like that," she replied, though the flirtatiousness was gone from her voice, replaced with quiet anticipation.

"How does tonight sound?"

"I'll have to check my calendar," she said before sputtering a laugh. "Would you look at that. It's free."

"I'll pick you up, oh, let's say, at seven?" he suggested. "I know this fantastic place called The Blue Door. I hear they have a new chef, and from personal experience, I know he is very, very good."

"That sounds quite promising, Chef McCrimmon."

oOo

A few weeks later, Jamie barged into the kitchen while Rose was washing the dinner dishes. "Rose, hurry, we're going to the observatory. I just heard. It's going to be clear for a few hours tonight."

Rose dropped her towel on the counter, and followed Jamie without a second thought. He drove his Land Rover up the rough, muddy road to the top of the not-mountain, and they ran into the old observatory, so as to not waste a second of precious, cloudless time.

Jamie danced with elegance and grace as he quickly performed the steps necessary to prepare the telescope.

"Come here." Jamie held out his hand, beckoning her to his side.

Rose stepped up to the eyepiece and hesitated. Jamie nodded, and his eyes shone with anticipation.

"Go on. Look. Tell me what you see."

Rose fumbled for words at first, and then began to describe how it felt to look at stars, nebulae, galaxies, and gasses.

"You're looking into the past, you know that, right? You're seeing gasses and minerals and elements that burned billions of years ago, just now reaching Earth. This moment in time will only happen once, Rose Tyler. Take a good look at it. You're seeing something that will never happen again."

Rose stepped away from the telescope, slowly turned to Jamie and pulled him into her arms. "It's a bit frightening," she said into his chest, savoring the oddly cooler than normal warmth of his body, but not saying anything, and not caring either.

"I'm going to kiss you now," he said, confidently.

"You better."

Jamie and Rose shared their first kiss amidst the stars. 

It was the first of many, and over the months, each kiss became more passionate than the one before.

oOo

It was a clear night, the height of the Perseid meteor showers, when they bared their bodies, souls and hearts to each other.

Rose and Jamie hastily returned to her house from a night at the observatory, and left a trail of clothing beginning at the front door, up the steep stairs leading to her loft bedroom, and ending at the foot of her bed.

The only thing other than skin that was between them was the key on the chain around her neck. He never complained as the cold metal trailed across his chest when she hovered over him, dropping kisses down his body. Rose never asked about the frantic beating of his two hearts as he whispered her name into her ear… as she opened herself to him… as he lost himself in her.

Both pretended they didn't hear their names being called through the crack in the wall as they silently caressed each other in the wake of their passion.

oOo

Six months later, Rose and Jamie became husband and wife in a small wedding ceremony in the garden behind The Blue Door.

The voices through the crack in the wall called to them nightly. Both chose to ignore, instead choosing to hear their beloved's voice drowning out the whispers coming through the crack.

Children never came, though not for lack of trying. But they were happy and content. 

Jamie returned to professorship, but only via webcast. He couldn’t bear to leave the observatory, or The Blue Door, or his precious Rose Tyler.

The inn now had a steady stream of guests. Many were ghost hunters. Some experienced The Crack. Others heard the voices. Most never returned.

Gwenyth and Rhys moved to Wales after she gave birth to a daughter. 

Other assistants came and went. All were loved. All were important.

Time marched on…

oOo

"Why is it, Dr. McCrimmon, that you just keep getting better and better looking and time just keeps on marching all over my face," Rose said one morning over breakfast in the kitchen.

"Superior genetics," Jamie replied, cheeky as always, with that hint of hurt under the surface that broke Rose's heart.

They never spoke about those things - the unusual differences between them - his two hearts, or his uncanny ability to run for hours without breaking a sweat or gasping for air. How he never got sick. The coolness of his skin under the heat of hers. His lost years. _How he never aged..._

Rose sighed sadly. Her husband never changed, yet she was growing old right before his eyes. It was as if time stopped around him, cradling him in youth.

"Care for a walk in the woods? I could use some fresh air," she suggested, shrugging off the sadness, as she did most days now that they had been married nearly forty years.

oOo

The fresh scent of fir wafted up to their noses as their feet crushed the fallen needles. They had always taken the path to the right, but a storm the night before had felled a tree, so they took a never before seen path to the left.

His feet were sure and strong as Jamie guided Rose's slightly weakened legs along the slippery trail, over logs and through brambles, avoiding thorny vines and clearing the way for her. The path opened wide, and a small clearing was revealed. The sun decided to show itself, and peeked through parting clouds, sending rays of light dappling through the tall trees, casting light on a small, wooden shed, all covered with vines. The dark blue paint was worn, but the structure was sound.

The ever present key hanging on a necklace around Rose's neck grew warm against her heart.

The birds stopped singing. 

The wind stilled.

The rustling of the leaves ceased.

Silence…

Rose’s wrinkled, arthritic hand found Jamie’s soft, firm grasp with a strength she hadn’t felt in years.

"Rose." Jamie whispered her name. “My Rose…”

“Doctor,” she choked out. "I _remember_ you,” she whispered.

Lightning cracked the crystal blue sky in the shape of a manic grin, the wind swirled, lifting her now grey hair up and away from her face, and ruffling his unmercifully.

"You didn't think our story would really end like this, now did you, Rose Tyler?" he said with a cheeky grin.

Years of worry that had lined her face melted away. 

She no longer questioned her place in this universe.

“Rose Tyler.” No longer was a ghost calling for her. It was her Doctor. 

The aching pain that had haunted her…

The disembodied voice of the man pleading for her through that evil, burning smile name…

That devilish crack in the wall…

The despair turned into joy as the voice was now real.

As her Doctor was safe.

The lines, wrinkles, and marks of age melted off of Rose's face and she jumped into his arms, her youth restored.

He swung her from side to side as memories flooded their minds, filling in blanks, sending light where there had been darkness.

And the beautiful blue door flung itself open.

And the universe sang. 

"Where do you wanna go first, Doctor?"

"Further than we've ever gone before."

**Author's Note:**

> I originally left Rose's fact ambiguous, letting the reader decide if she regained her youth. This time around, I couldn't live with that.
> 
> The switch from present to past tense is intentional.


End file.
